


between the shadow and the soul

by warschach



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Dirty Talk, Eren is a hot ass Roman and Levi has issues with that, Eren with curly hair because I'm a slut for it, Explicit Consent, F/M, Gladiator Levi, Gladiators, Jean Kirstein & Eren Yeager Are Related, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Smut, War veterans, dominus Eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warschach/pseuds/warschach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fires ignited when Eren’s hot breath brushed his skin.</p><p>Hot, Levi mused as the dominus coiled and spiraled around as hawk in hunt, eyeing the serpent on the ground.</p><p>Steps slowed behind Levi and every instinct commanded for him to run, you didn’t give anyone your back, but Eren’s hot wet chest pressed against his spine and he believed for an instant that Eren was planning to scorch him too, leave the man in cinders and ashes.  A dulcet voice ambushed him on all ends, seductive as sirens to sailors lost at sea. </p><p>“Do you want to be my gladiator, Levi?” The Roman’s lips ghosted over the back of his nape up to his ear. “To be at your dominus’ beck and call at all times of night, to have me privately in my chambers free to speak and do as you wish.” Hands as hot as brands ran down Levi’s arms. “Are these Roman customs something you might enjoy?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this was an idea i wanted to write for a while but i never thought i could do it any justice. this is me trying to do that.
> 
> \- this is some minor abuse to the servants but it doesn't occur between Eren and Levi and happens mostly in this chapter.  
> \- there is discrimination because not everyone likes the Romans.  
> \- if you ever seen Spartacus, then you'll see some parallels. i took most of my inspiration from the show but don't worry this fic won't have any non-con of the sort. fuck that noise, i like consenting adults.  
> \- this got way longer than I planned so it split into two chapters, maybe three if more plot gets in the way.  
> \- I changed last names and added middles names to that of Roman or Greek because for authenticity, yo!  
> \- the title is from a sonnet, I'm such a sap.  
> \- lastly, enjoy

_“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”_

― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

 

 

Capua hadn’t been a home to him for many years not since he enlisted himself in the service of the Roman Empire. The carpentum rattled over the road where the streets in the markets were rocky and slick with stones and shit. The poorer district of Capua was a sordid place where shitting and bathing was done publicly. They passed quickly, stops occurred to allow the passing of wed mothers with their children, hands full from goods purchased at the plaza. Their skin was brown and the fabric that draped their shoulders was equally as dark and meager as their world

They went over a hole and the bump jolted Eren’s bad leg. He clutched it with a fist and bit off a curse of pain, cursed the gods a thousand times over under his breath and prayed they knew his disdain. Every Roman out there knew better than to commit such a taboo but Eren wasn’t a man of faith. Incidentally, recent events had given him reason to believe they have cursed him. His injury on the field that discharged him honorably and his father’s passing to Pluto seemed a piece only the god could craft. He had enough faith to blame his tragedy and that was more than he ever possessed before.

He did have his legs so perhaps he shouldn’t be too scorn; infections were more deadly and efficient than a sword’s cut and sometimes medicus were too slow in preventing impurities from corrupting the wound that amputations was the only solution to preserve their life. He’d lost many men from sickness and disease that he wasn’t sure why the Emperor hadn’t declared it an enemy of Rome.

 His wound ran from the jut of his hip bone to the swell of his knee, they cleansed it, burned it, and coated it with aloe and other herbs. Charging proved very difficult as did standing properly. Whenever he rode his mount, he couldn’t maintain his balance on the saddle. It hurt to kick the side of his mount into a gallop. Then the terrain on the field reminded Eren constantly of his weakness. An injury that one day would kill him and the soldiers in his unit. Most men had no choice but to continue the battle and prayed whatever end meet them took it quick with little pain.

With the death of his father and Jean’s purist into the Senate, he declined retiring into administrative position within the Legion. He lived and breathed the art of war, commanding his men into battle, leading the assault on his mouth as the sound of his troops rallied behind him and shook the ground, he couldn’t stand to be put at desk with a quill and parchment in place of his sword and shield, a silk tunic in place of armor and the Legion colors.  In moments of weakness, he’d almost prefer if the barbarian ran him through with his sword. He wouldn’t have to swallow this disablement of his body and his career. But he supposed you couldn’t fault the man, barbarians lacked the skill to kill a Roman and Roman didn’t surrender so easily.

His legionary armor felt heavier than the last he remembered; he was wearing it now but wasn’t sure exactly why he’d bother with the ceremony. The outside would see Eren as Primus Pilus but his injury made it certain Eren didn’t, the position was behind him now

. A sword was all he knew. He wasn’t an elite politician like his brother, Jean. He was the soldier. Maybe he wore it in vain hope that the sigil of Rome would give him strength as it did for all his men on the eve of battle.

There was no effect like that; Eren felt foolish—his old home was making him a hopeful child again. The ludus was at the point of the cliff, the black rocks met like the point of a sword. As the carpentum halted at the entrance, Eren realized that his old home was now his permanent one. The house name, the gladiators, the arena were all his to claim.

It overwhelmed and comforted him— men under his charge— it was nearest he’d get to former his life in the Legion.

Maybe the transition wouldn’t be too jarring.

Mikasa sauntered outside, gown lavish and expensive, red had always been Mikasa’s color but she had the black on. Oh yes, father died, Eren remembered without much emotion. It didn’t trouble him as much as it should. The long trip had made him forgetful and callous.

The limp only slowed him slightly but the guards wisely let Eren disembarked on his own, staring ahead blankly. The armor cloaked his wounded pride.

“Brother,” she kissed both of his cheeks then examined him over as she entwined their hands.

“Sister,” he said, hoping it conveyed a thousand emotions in it. She became his sister through the wedlock of his younger brother, Jean; but he cared deeply for her as if they were blood.

“My dear brother has returned to grace Capua with his appearance. There is no greater omen.”

“I see your tongue is still unchained.”  He felt relieved when Mikasa made no comment as he grimaced in pain and clutched at the source.

Her lips curled at one corner, it was bitter and sweet all at once. “My husband is at the market. He should arrive soon. Times of grief beg for loved ones to be in attendance.”

Eren sighed and adjusted the cloak so it trailed behind him. Loose dirt and rock dirtied the tail and it was a compliant Eren made several times to his seniors for one that doesn’t drape along the ground.

He groaned dramatically. “Home already and my suffering begins.”

Mikasa looped an arm through his as a tiny smile spread on her painted lip. “Ah, then the wine should lessen the pain.”

 

[x]

 

The atrium emptied fresh sunlight into the ludus. The room where his father was kept was empty of all else but him, Mikasa, the bed, and a silk sheet for respect of his passing. The slave gently unveiled his father and folded the sheet at the swell of his chest. The leather collar and the hot ironed made brand discerned her station as House Venator’s property. Youthful skin and voluminous hair told Eren she was no more than fourteen or fifteen. As soundless as a statue, she stood at the corner of the room and fidgeted with the end of the tunic which had less cloth and more skin for lecherous spectators.

She didn’t want to be here and Eren couldn’t blame her but he assumed their reasoning for it differed greatly. He hadn’t visited the villa for years and had no knowledge of his father’s activities in his absence.  War left him little time to write to his family regularly.

“Leave us,” he commanded and felt her relief from here.

She bowed with the grace of one born in lower class then ducked out silently as if the sound of her shoes would incur his wrath. “The girls are younger every time,” Mikasa said tartly as she watched the young girl’s departure. The footfalls as hushed as a mouse.

“Father wasn’t a boy lover,” he answered. “Where is Hannes?

“Our father saw it fit to include him in the dealings of the ludus, he left weeks before father’s passing for recruits. I’ve received word he returns for home riding on the fastest vessel at the port.”

A frowned soured his face, “Entrusting the affairs of the ludus to him…” Eren shook his head at the incredulity. “The man is a drunk and a fool.”

“Brazen words, brother. I think the Lord of the Underworld will have his hands full with you.”

Unlike his sister, Eren didn’t harbor a blind fear of the Gods and he scoffed at the suggestion. Let Pluto come to their realm himself, Eren had no fear of intangible legends. “Then they should pray I live a very long life.”

“Rash as ever. Did Rome teach you nothing?” Mikasa asked.

“Only swords and cocks, sister. I’m sure you are familiar with one at least,” the smirk on his face is cocksure and not unkind.

Her fingers ran across the shimmering gems around her neck, the rubies contrasted perfectly to her milky complexion. “No one saw it fit to cut your tongue. Rome disappoints.”

The bicker granted an honest smile from his sister and it warmed his heart that last any of them has smiled was when mother was around. Afterwards, it was a choking cloud of sorrow and hurt that crushed anything in them. Eren found relief in sword play. Father threw everything into the games and his gladiators. And Jean sought freedom from the ludus and their father’s tyranny through political circles.

They peered over their father and waited for it an emotional whiplash inside themselves but the could only find the same shade of bronze in his hair and the same lips that were thin and hard as the marble floors. The white in his hair was the only sign of his age.

“He passed in his sleep.”

He snorted cynically. It sounded like a happy death. “Many of us don’t share his fortune.”

“Your troubles are mine, Eren. Marriage may bid us but you are as much as a brother to me.”

“My troubles belong to me. Gratitude, sister.” His sister was strong but he worried the tales of war and bloodshed may be too disconcerting for her. All he wished was for all of this to pass as quickly as possible and push the past where it firmly belonged.

An ache shot down his leg and he clasped the limb to stop it, Mikasa spared a look but didn’t say a word on the matter.

He had hope seeing father would promote a thrashing tides of sorrow and heartache but the waters were still. It was all rather underwhelming. His love had always been for his mother and he saw now, even in death, that it hadn’t changed. No tears would be shed by him.

“How soon can arrangements be made? I don’t want his sickness to linger in the ludus.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

The eight days of mourning passed and they proceeded forward with the ceremony for his father’s funeral.

The night they burn his father, there was neither stars nor moon in the inky sky as if the Gods were mocking the truth that his father had lost all the light in him.

Eren climbed up the rungs to the pyre, the wind whispering off the cliff edge whipped his hickory curls. Scented oils and perfumes tried to cover the stench of death.

He felt he should have some words for him but he couldn’t think of any that fit or weren’t cold or filled with resentment. So he said nothing and kissed his forehead.

Eren placed his fare for the boatman on his left eye. Jean followed after Eren, not nearly as stoic and silent as his older brother.

Mikasa embraced her husband with one arm, the other clasped Eren’s hand tightly.

The seasoned gladiators bowed their heads in respect as the recruits stared forward blankly.

At his command, the guard set fire to the pyre. The air crackled and smoked as the flame ate from the foundation to the corpse. For a brief time, Grisha was framed beautifully by fire until it took to him as well. 

The position of lanista was firmly thrust in his hands. The men, the ludus, the house name was Eren’s weight.

 

 

[x]

 

 

One night when the pain was too great and Eren could scarcely walk from his chambers, Sasha knelt at his bedside and tended to his throbbing leg, hands gliding smoothly over the scarred skin.

“Was my father cruel to you?” he asked as the night’s silence flied the room.

The hands on his thigh stopped minutely, and the girl dropped her eyes. “I— Dominus, your father was…He treated me as he should.”

“And was his treatment unkind?”

Sasha didn’t dare look at him.  “I’m not my father,” he told her.

Hazel eyes warmed by the glow of the fire peered from under long lashes. An emotion swam in them and called out, dim as a star far in the sky.

“I won’t raise a hand to you,” he assured. With a cautious softness, Eren touched her cheek.

The girl flinched and braced for the pain and only earned the soothing rub of Eren’s thumb.

Sasha opened her eyes and they shimmered wetly, but she didn’t cry. “Gratitude, Dominus.” A stress that lassoed her relinquished its stifling hold and her hands felt warmer and sweet like petals of a flower.

 

 

[x]

 

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner, Eren. Gods willing, I’ve been with you and your brother every step of the way.” He clasped Eren’s shoulder and allowed the gesture to speak in his place.

“There’s no need,” Eren said, returning the motion until his uncle was pleased and walked into atrium.

The scent of long night spent sea broad with nothing but the company of crew and slaves clung to his robs. His uncle grew soft and round in the middle from his languid, indulgent activities. Fine wine perfumed his breath when he settled along Eren.

 “It’s a heavy burden to bury ones parent no matter the age or circumstance. Your father spoke of highly and often over your victories. Know that he loved you and your brother dearly.”

“I’m not a boy anymore, uncle. Don’t comfort me like one.”

“Right, you are a man now. As a man, you should learn to forgive your father. A boy nurses resentment and a man moves past it.”

“Mikasa told me you purchased recruits for the ludus?”

Hannes paused, a retort ready, but nodded instead. “In the barracks, dominus. The medicus is looking over the men for ailments. I’m afraid the trip made a few of them ill.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

Torches lit light in the underground barracks of the ludus. The ludus’ medicus, Hange, warily nursed the wounds on the new recruit but that was proving to be troublesome as the he recoiled from her touch at every interval. The other recruits —those in good health and standing— were on the sand, witnessing the gladiators spare and practice with rudis, and the clank as wood clashed against wood rippled inside the barracks as did the sun that whipped cruelly on the mountain’s cliff and the sand.  Of all the men, whom his uncle purchased at the market, this one was procured at the arena and wore the wounds of his match as symbols of triumph.

Eren watched from the doorway, dressed suitably in green robes fitting for a lanista, and listened to his uncle spill the tale over this particular slave. “The Thracian was sentenced to his death. Faced gladiators of a noble house and struck them down as if he was Jupiter himself. The gods favor him.”

“You hope that favors passes on to us,” Eren prompted, smiling in slight at the ridiculous notion of the gods favoring anyone let alone one man. His uncle was the type to seek out the temple of the gods and pay penance for any grievous offenses and poor luck.

“I wish to elevate this ludus as your father wanted. You’re lanista now. Train these gladiators. Give proof where most would find doubt.”

From here, the recruit was small in height and tiny in posture compared to gladiators on the sand, but his body was board and firm as the marble columns in Rome. The oily gleam made him almost godly looking as the flames blazed over the hills and valleys on his body. A steady breath flexed the shadows the fire created, moving them like the black tides of the Mediterranean Sea.

His experience in the Roman military taught Eren plenty; one of those tricks was reading a man’s body for weaknesses and strengths. The slave’s body definitely had knowledge of training and conditioning, the callousness of his hand spoke to

A man broken and ruined by Roman standard but a hardened warrior to his very core.

 Most of his face was obscured by his tangled hair, what was visible to the eye was a delicate nose and pouty lips that far too soft for a man sentenced to death and adrift on the ocean for days deprived of light and proper food. Thinking back to the days in the ludus where Eren would stand next to his father on the balcony and observe the gladiators, he remembered none baring such features. Few were disfigured in some degree and sneered disdainfully at all times to scare others from staring longer than needed.

The truth of his intuition would be seen soon enough in training.

Heavy chains rattled as the Thracian shifted on the bench in the medicus’ quarters and doctore, a man tall and wide as the mountains, cracked the whip at his heel.

 He looked up, hushed, then stilled only to grimace when Hange patted a green paste to the wound.

Seeming tamer, they approached from the shadows and evaluated him over. The darkness did poorly to illuminate the Thracian’s beauty even with the veneer of dirt, grime, and sweat- he was sharply beautiful as a gladiator’s gladius stained with the blood of his enemy. Maybe there was some truth to the gossip.

The smell of him was another matter and Eren covered his nose.

“Have fresh water brought to the men. I will have no gladiator in my ludus smelling so foul.”

The doctore nodded, he was happy to see Mike still serving at the ludus, a shadow of the former gladiator he was in the arena but only skilled warriors were awarded the title of doctore. The doctore form easily towered everyone like a colossuses. “As you command, dominus.”

“His injuries?”

Hange fiddled with her bowel of herbal paste and wiped the excess on a cloth, turning to Eren. “Nothing a few days of rest and food can’t remedy, dominus.”

“Good. And have his hair tended to. It’s too long,” Eren clicked at the unsightly hair matted with sweat and gods knows what. In that state, it was beyond saving, not that having long hair was ideal for a gladiator. Hair got caught and that meant a clean decapitation.

“You should see to your home for it carries the stench. Not I,” the slave spoke, the fire’s shadow danced on the hard cut of his jaw.

Enraged, Hannes thwacked the slave across the face and he absorbed the blow with a small grunt. “You speak out of turn, slave.”

“No,” the brunet ceased his uncle’s next strike, “I want the cells and the baths thoroughly clean as well. My father may have grown careless in his late years but I’ll breed gladiators here not beasts.”

Hannes subdued his tongue, words waiting to lash on the tip, but dropped his arm and swallowed the insult. Perhaps his father encouraged the abuse but Eren loathed needless punishment. “I’ll see to it,” he said.

“Do so, uncle. I am lanista of this ludus. Keep that thought near,” Eren warned, his once honeyed voice dropped to a burning, unforgiving cadence like the bite of frost.

These men may be his to command and do with as he saw fit but he was not a cruel man to unjustly reprimand a slave for simply speaking. His father lashed out frequently over the smallest offence and it invoked a boil of resentment in Eren. He had an unorthodox perspective of slaves and treated them more kindly than expected of a Roman.

Something akin to astonishment crossed over the Thracian’s face as his steel colored eyes weighed the tension between them.

The words were as hot as bile in his throat and were difficult to stomach even as he muttered it between clenched teeth. “Apologies, these matters will be tended to swiftly.”

Eren elected to ignore his uncle and walked closer to the Thracian; and their difference in class was acutely felt by both in that instant. The Thracian had nothing but a ratted subligar to his possession. “Do you have a name, Thracian? One given by your mother.”

“You care for my name, Roman?” he questioned, baffled and ornery by the inquiry as if the matter was too private for be shared with a Roman. “Don’t you name your own cunts as you see fit?”

“Men come here deprived of their freedom. Who am I to deprive a man of his name?”

Something vengeful and kind muddled his face and divided the Thracian so that the rage strapped to his skin like armor shattered to hatched chick without its mother, lost.

Eren had the world and more his whole life and this man had his robbed in the blink of an eye, so he was patient. Sent to die then sold to another to fight and die, who the fuck would care of a name?

 The raven wet his mouth and stared, and Eren was startled to see his eyes were polished silver as though the steel dropped its edge and adopted the softness of doves in flight across the sun. “Levi.”

 

[x]

 

 “The slaves tongues wags like a dog. Perhaps he’ll be better suited on his knees,” his uncle grumbled aside Eren as they ascended from the gladiator’s barracks to the chambers that housed the named champions of Capua.

Tall stones were carved with the likeness of gladiators past, honoring their greatness and accomplishments. Below the bust was script chiseled into the stone in Latin. Lower was the resemblance of a sword that thrust towards another purpose aside from the game. He’d never understood the meaning for it but it was interesting to look upon and feel the echoes of their spirits as if their greatness would bless the ludus.

“And you spoke so highly, uncle,” Eren jested, not as sour as his relative over the Thrac— no— Levi’s remark.  The men would keep their name: Levi, Erwin, Marcus, Verro…

He had a wicked tongue for a gladiator but his lethal beauty lessened its stroke. Part of him knew Levi didn’t embody the ideal characteristics of a gladiator, most rather have a submissive one, but it didn’t diminish his confidence in him.

Still crossed, Hannes muttered caustically, “I know pockets that would pay greatly for a pretty thing like him.”

“Your first error, uncle. The Thracian is a warrior- one that will not submit so easily- especially not to intentions as sordid as that.” Eren dismissed. A fire matched only by the Sun God burned in Levi and Eren would see it best used in the arena.

“He’s too stubborn. An arse is more agreeable than him.”

Eren didn’t refute it, he wasn’t too concern about Levi’s will. “I trust doctore to condition him into a gladiator. Mike hasn’t failed my father, he will not fail me.”

Hannes scoffed, content to sulk the whole day, “If he does fails, you must send him to the mines. We can’t afford willful men.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, uncle,” Eren smirked; there were plenty places he wished to send Levi and it wasn’t the mines.

 

[x]

 

“What is beneath your feet?” Doctore asked as he stalked down the line of recruits. None gave voice to his question. The ludus’ branded gladiators watched from a far, sharing commentary and mirthful glances among the brotherhood, few felt another of the slave would make the cut. Few hands were ready to exchange money on which slave would fail first.

Levi pulled his eyes skyward, hair sheared to tiny tendrils, and exhaled. “Sand,” he said since the doctore insisted on dragging the introduction till an answer was given.

“Wrong,” Doctore shouted at him as he dwarfed Levi.

He was expecting a flinch or for him to drop his eyes in submission but Levi jutted his chin out defiantly.

“Nile,” Mike started once more, gaze fixed on Levi, “what is beneath your feet?”

One gladiator sauntered to the sand, proud and cocksure. “Sacred ground, doctore, watered by the blood and tears of gladiators.”

The Thracian wished they’d cut the shit and throw him into training; he could care less for their glory-loving philosophy. Gladiators fought then died, nothing more than a blood sport. Your freedom was taken as though it were mere coin; how did that broker honor and glory?

 The wind whipped down the ledge of the grounds where the sand stopped and the promise of swift death began. It bellowed in his ears like a fat beast with gaping teeth and hungry belly for fouls.

A man had only two means of escape: over the cliff or bodies at his feet.

 This would be his prison for years to come and the thought should disturb him, it didn’t. It was easier to accept his fate than pondered where it went wrong. What he could’ve done differently.

So Levi stopped once he found himself chained among other dead men at the bottom of boat, the cold water washing their bodies the gentlest of punishments they’d endured on the voyage.

 “Should you pass, you will be gladiators of House Venator and bring honor to your dominus, Eren Helius Venator,” Doctore pressed on either unaware or uncaring of Levi’s traveling eye.

The men astride him were much more concern and attentive than him as they should be, their bodies were thin and lanky. Not much muscle or strength to be a real competitor in the arena if they wanted to win their freedom back.

The gladiators were being watched the moment they walked on the sand but now was the time they were permitted to stare back at those curious audience. Levi didn’t recognized most of the faces. One he remembered as the man who bought him like someone who procured a sheep for slaughter.

Next to him, perched high above them like a deity, Eren Helius Venator.

Then something more than the walls, the cliff, and the death of his freedom quaked through him- it was eyes- ones that carved through the dark of the barracks the night prior. Those same eyes were slicing through him now with the magnetism of Jupiter, the weight washed down his body in torrential waves.

 From the ground, Levi could see them blaze with the touch of dawn and they looked like jewels crafted by a master with the likeness of summer. A paragon of scorching heat and vast fields overflowed with wild flowers. His cheekbones and jawline mimed the hardness of marble.

The Roman’s eyes were the finest emerald, hand-picked, crafted to clean lines by experts. These gems farmed a face forged in bronze with lips unfairly cruel and sublime. Levi mapped the pinkness, wondering how a man could have lips so rosy and exquisite.

Those eyes were doing it again, smoldering and dirty, as they ate up the display and the feeling was _blazing,_ his body taking quickly to the flame like parchment to a wild fire. Felt it whisper across his skin and kiss over areas most desired by a need known only as carnal and feral. His cock twitched traitorously when they searched lower. Pink lips crooked into an impish smile.

A feverous appetite stirred in Levi, the demure embers bursting into a caustic firestorm.

He grew up loathing the Roman Empire, their rules, their entitlement, their greed, the way they wordlessly expected others to bend the knee at their feet. All of his, being down to his beating heart and the blood flowing through his body, loathed every Roman in this life and the next.

So by nature, Levi should be repulse. His pride as a Thracian should be bristling and bucking in revolt. 

Should be thing feeling anything but _this_ —

Clouds overhead moved like mystical creatures under the water, rays of Apollo streamed through and dipped the Roman in gold ink. The wind rushed back the curls farming his face. His eyes morphed into ensnaring foliage that latched, grew, and dominated the world’s soil.

Dominus— _master_ — the title rolled on his tongue, saturating it, coating it with the flavor of power.

He angled his head back, drew his gaze to the Roman, and said the title aloud, “Dominus,” the roaring wind from the cliff side swallowed it but Eren’s eyes chased the shape of his mouth as it formed the word.

Eren returned the exchange with a lazy grin, captivation hooding his eyes, “Gladiator.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so three chapters because i'm a slut with no restraint.
> 
> and a huge fucking thank you for all the support so far.
> 
> this has smut so it gonna be a good time.

 

_You're so bad but I want a taste._

_A little taste you have, come on over_

_Right now, take me down._

_I want your poison._

-Skyler Stonestreet, "A Little Taste"

 

 

Mike commenced the recruit’s conditioning, and began first on their strength and endurance through the usage with planks of lumber that they wielded on their shoulders and dropped flat on their back then back up. This would carry through the dawn till night fall. Most of the men should their lack of strength already, some fell and breathed for minutes till doctore whipped at them and ordered them to move. Only a few took to the training naturally and gracefully, one being the Thracian and the other a free man.

It was uncommon for a dominus to have a sexual relationship with their gladiators or servants, but Eren thought himself better than his father.

“Quite small for a gladiator,” Jean mused then held out his cup for more wine. Mutely, Sasha filled it then walked to Eren’s side.

“None for me,” he dismissed.                                           

Sasha bent her head and bowed. “Dominus,” she said gently.

  In the company of others, she was less likely to engage Eren familiarly as they did in private. In was a process but each time they talked freely and without titles or thought, Eren felt proud. The ludus was steadily morphing into his and washing away his father’s mark.

“You’re bore,” his brother teased. That was another thing that changed in the past month, Jean was a perpetual body in the ludus, offering his advice regardless if Eren asked for it or not.

“Wine dulls a man,” Eren explained. His brother wouldn’t understand where he indulged, Eren rationed; a few drinks loosened the tongue for Jean while a few for Eren could slow his movements. The war wasn’t here but he couldn’t shake the urge to stay coherent and alert in the morning.

Jean leaned forward in the chair. “You are dull. There was a time you could drink two flagons.”

“That was before I had to oversee the ludus. Don’t you have a wife to bother?”

His brother rose to his feet and slouched over the balcony, watching the men spare with a dull observation.  “Mikasa is at the market. So that leaves you for me to torment.”

 Levi caught the strike with one blade, ducked low, pivoted around Erwin, and struck him across the back with the flat of the other sword.

Something soft like a laugh brightened the raven’s face, wrists expertly cut the air while he waited.

Erwin staggered forward a few steps, hand to the red welt, and turned to Levi, batting down the pain and repositioning.

He approached Levi more cautiously; baited Levi to swing but the man gave a halfhearted one while maneuvering the other to Erwin’s unguarded ribs.

“You know the thing about tiny men is that they’re small and swift. A harder target to hit.”

“Hmm. But a well-placed blow from a man twice his size and there’ll be half of a target.”

“Do you see the way he moves?” Eren noted, his brother studied Levi more closely to understand Eren’s statement. Clearly, his war hardened brother saw more than he did.

“Afraid the wine has dulled me,” he quipped, and smiled into his cup. “Please enlighten me.”

“He is aware of the men astride him. Then ones at his back and front,” he explained.

His brows furrowed in concentration. “And that means?”

“He has been on the field. In the arena, you have three to four men itching for your throat. Your enemies won’t be so considerate. Men on horseback, men on foot, archers from across the clearing. They are all after your head. So you must be vigilante.”

“Ah but the games are more than men fighting. You can enter any third rate fighting pit but to be among the real gladiator you need more than gifted killer. The right names will get much farther.”

Eren gave him a dry look. “I assume you’re going to tell me how to do that.”

“You’ll have to admit, I play much better with words than swords. I know the right people with heavy pockets. All you need to do is prepare an exhibition. Something to wet the tongue. ”

The Roman sighed, unenthusiastic. “I hate politics.”

“Then you’re very lucky, brother, because the Gods have bestow upon you the best politician.”

The face he made showed how little he cared.

“Eren. Father’s final years in the game weren’t certainly inspiring. House Venator doesn’t hold the same glory as it did once. No one will consider you if you don’t show them your strength. “

A former solider or Rome or not, Eren grumbled childishly. “Feasts like that cost money, brother. Our father indulged himself. And if you couldn’t see, most of the recruits would be slaughter if I put them in the games. I won’t send corpses.”

“You’re dramatic. If it the money concern so then use the Thracian if he has so much experience. Pit him against our champion, Nile. A private audience with practice swords. It will leave them wanting for when you do enter “

 

 

[x]

 

 

Levi stopped at the entrance of the bath, rooted to the marble by the man luxuriating in the steaming waters. He didn’t dare breath, worried the action would rouse the man. The guards had escorted him into the ludus on dominus’ command but that didn’t mean he was allowed to enter as he bathe. 

Dangling oil lanterns shaded the room in sheets of gold that withered and flickered with the night breeze.  Sasha perched on the steps dipping into the sunken tub, the waters lapping hem of her skirt and darkening it where it touched her skin, as she massaged Eren’s leg, a vicious angry scar bolting up.

The two shared words privately, and Levi felt more unsettled than ever at sincerely kind tone in which Eren addressed Sasha and the ease a young girl had with a naked Roman, one well off, tragically handsome with a victorious military career and a house of servants to bow down. Roman took whatever they pleased and everything that wasn’t theirs pleased them. They couldn’t be further apart than a mutt to a stallion.

Yet, she talked and touched him with such a level of familiarity and adoration that an unlearned emotion churned in his stomach unpleasantly, envy.

“How’s the pain, dominus?” She asked.

Eren opened his eyes from where he was silently basking and drew the limb in, tested its limits and perched it in her lap again. “Persistent.”

“Perhaps you should see a healer.”

“And suffer Hange’s wrath?” He chuckled, then mused softly as he contemplated. “She suggested a brace. That might do.”

An idea perked the girl into excitement, she leaned over. “I know, dominus. A cane!”

“I can’t conceal a cane. Why make my limits known?”

The young girl crossed her arms under her breasts and pouted. “You think too much, dominus.”

Tiny ripples ringed through the water as laughter tumbled from Eren. “Well that’s what I do best. Think about my next move, my enemies’, where to place my archers, when should my cavalry arrive, do my brothers have enough food to survive through the winter, will the next shipment of supplies reach us in time, how many have died, how many more will die. It’s all planning, Sasha.”

The scruff of Levi’s sandal over the smooth marble alerted the two to his presence.

Eren waved Levi over lazily, no signs of distressed or indignation at his eavesdropping, rivulets of water licked down his corded arms and dribbled into the tub. “No sense in staying out there all night. Come on.”

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Levi said waspishly, eyes pointedly skimming to Sasha.

By the Gods, he came as a scorned spouse and toward a young girl no less. Not to mention, the emotion it had no place to begin with.

“And you’re here on my behalf, please intrude. I could use the company.”

“Dominus.”

He touched the back of Sasha’s hand, “Sasha, a flagon of wine, please.”

“Yes, dominus.” Water tracked after her when she stepped out of the tub.

 Eren rose, beads of water mapped down the expanse body of a solider of Rome. When he moved, his body was a devastating tide, fluid and savage. Wet curls clung to his temples. The hair on his chest down the navel was fine and grew thicker and dense around his cock. He had a limp to his gait though it was slight and hardly tarnished the violence he brandished.

He turned, going for the silk robe laying on a bench, and the gods couldn’t have created a more perfect ass; tight, round, and begging for his hand to grab and squeeze.  He was staring for so long everything Eren said in the span of him walking over and shrugging on the garment went over his head.

The sash at Eren’s waist, knotted loosely, exhibited the still damp skin and all pervious theories as to way he was summoned here fluttered away.

The young brunette padded back with a flagon of wine and two cup which he took dumbly as Eren tipped his head back and drank from his cup, the tendons in his nape flexing and straining against bronze skin.

Eren stared down his cup, licking after the taste, his lips made slick and shiny by the swipe of his tongue. “Don’t tell my brother, he would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I drank without him.”

“Which one is he?”

“When we were children, I told him he bared a comical likeness to a horse.”

A face immediately fit the image. He tried not to snort. This situation was whole new ground for him. The ambience was friendly now but the wrong word or tone could stop that.

“Ah. I know the one.”

Eren snorted inelegantly into his wine. It was horridly captivating and tender. “Don’t tell him either I said that either. He’ll send his wife after me.”

“Is this common for you Roman to summon gladiators to your baths at night?” ~~~~

That may have been crasser than he’d intended. He dropped his gaze and tossed back the wine in one gulp, the least he could do was taste the wine these Roman were pissing all over themselves about before the guards hauled him to the barracks on Eren’s command.

But where he’d expected ire, there was a base thing lurking in Eren’s eyes.

“That depends.” Eren said suddenly closer to Levi that left no room for misinterpretation, the Thracian staggered back an inch as heat radiated and burrowed down into his core.

This whole point they had never been so close. No balcony high above that demonstrated their difference in class. No guards at his rear, hands poised over the hilt of their swords, watchful of everything, so sure Levi would turn like a untamed beast.

Right now, Eren was close.

 Close enough that if Levi wanted, he could strangle the life out of the dominus and flee the ludus.  Close enough to discern the spirals of gold swimming among the green of his eyes. Close enough to smell Eren, a scent akin to the fires burning during long night, fires that scorched cities to cinders, fires that reduced people to ash.

Fires ignited when Eren’s hot breath brushed his skin.

_Hot_ , Levi mused as the dominus coiled and spiraled around as hawk in hunt, eying a coiled serpent on the ground.

Steps slowed behind Levi and every instinct commanded for him to run, you didn’t give anyone your back, but Eren’s hot chest pressed to his spine and he believed for an instant that Eren was planning to scorch him too, leave the man in cinders and ashes.  A dulcet voice ambushed him on all ends, seductive as sirens to sailors lost at sea.

“Do you want to be my gladiator, Levi?” The Roman’s lips ghosted over the back of his nape up to his ear. “To be at your dominus’ beck and call at all times of night, to have me privately in my chambers free to speak and do as you wish.” Hands as hot as brands ran down Levi’s arms. “Are these Roman customs something you might enjoy?”

The water in the bath settled, their bodies on the surface, and watched themselves like a voyeur. Watched the dainty silk sliding off Eren’s board shoulders and the way his dark skin stretched over toned muscles, the strength developed from a lifetime with a sword. Saw the heavy heave of his chest as breathing grew cumbersome. The curve of his cock as it swelled to fullness in his subligar.

Eren dropped his hands to frame the side of Levi’s hips, and his chin lowered until it touched the nock where Levi’s neck and shoulder meet, it was a clear path down his body and he knew the sight pleased Eren when his fingers tightened and he pulled Levi tight. A hard length pulsed at his ass.

Eren bit his lower lip in hopes to mask his whimper. He never knew, never, that a man could sound so decadent. So wanton.

How did a person feel before the fire burn them?

Was it painful? Did they ache?

 

 

 [x]

 

 

“Eat,” Doctore instructed and gestured to the cook hobbling over with a steaming pot of food. The other gladiators were lined up, wooden bowls in hand.

Levi and Erwin joined them at the end. “I’m starving,” Erwin said.

“How is that possible? You were on your back most of the time,” the raven snipped then smirked when he saw the scowl Erwin was aiming at his back.

“One day I’ll have you on your back,” Erwin joked.

The cook slapped a healthy share of stew that the soup trickled over his fingers. What he’d once considered messy was a blessing from the Gods. Food was scarce and hard during the war and less so in captivity since he was marked a dead man. The guards saw little point in feeding a corpse.  His friend did wrinkle his nose but he was a free man.

They carried their meal to the furthest table, neither a fan of the more lively gladiators.

“I had no idea you harbor such feelings for me, friend,” Levi said as he set his bowl down.

Erwin sat across from him. “May I remind you I have a beautiful wife waiting for me?”

With his elbows perched on the table, Levi ate his meal, pausing between spoonful to mock the blonde. “And she must think you a dumb cunt going freely into gladiatorial games.”

“It pays very well,” he argued, starting into his own meal, albeit with a fair amount of trepidation.

He scoffed and wiped his mouth with back of his hand, gesturing with the spoon. “Try saying that in the arena.”

“You weren’t in your barrack last night. Mind informing me as to where you ran off to?”

“Watching me now, are you?”

“I’m only curious.”

On the back of his tongue, Levi could taste the wine, the roll of the Roman’s words sweetening the flavor, the swirling buzz as the cup emptied and the night grew dark and lonesome. He smelled fire and cinder even when nothing here was burning but the sun.

Erwin’s spoon was in midair and the first teasing question now was legit puzzlement.

“Do you sit in your clot, worrying yourself sick over me like a wet nurse, Erwin?” Levi dislodged the path Erwin was trying to illuminate. He didn’t know why he wanted to keep the conversation between him and Eren private, but he did and he would.

“I think you rather enjoy my incessant concern. I am the only one here you could call friend being as unpleasant as you are.”

“And you’re not?”

“You wound me.”

“Eat. You’ll need the strength after I put you on your back.”

“My wife will be very upset to know you are taking advantage of me in such a way. Have you no honor, Levi?”

Levi smothered a grin. “Shut up and eat.”

Erwin was no fool and Levi wasn’t that cunning to fool a man like him but they went back to their food, to training, to the banter.

 

 

[x]

 

 

The guards didn’t escort him to the villa. One made rounds in the barracks and lingered at Levi’s cell, not saying anything as he nodded at him and walked away. Levi followed without complaint. Guards here had no issue issuing their own punishment, and he’d rather go to sleep less bruised.

The young servant girl, Sasha, stood on the other side of the bars; the divide from the barracks to the villa. You needed a key to get on the Roman’s level. Pretentious, really, how far the Romans went to establish the status quo between you and them; not Roman then you weren’t worth shit.

“That will be all,” she dismissed when the guard watched Levi warily; disdain hardened the unpleasantness of his face, as he wondered why someone like Levi was granted the blessing to stand in the villa with the dominus.

He wasn’t thinking of the repercussions as his lips twitched into a tiny smirk. The glare in return promised retribution.  

“Levi,” she unlocked the brass lock, the ring of keys dangled from her soft fingers. She was different now, firmer in herself, the line of her spine and neck cocked high and superior.  The clothes she wore were of finer quality, a powder blue, and tastefully displayed the body of a flowering woman. “Dominus is waiting.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

Stepping into the villa felt as if Levi transferred dimensions. Smooth stone whispered under the soles of his sandals. The soft fragrance of lavender colored the air, the wind carrying the scent from the baths to the rest of the villa. An image of Eren wet and naked as he rose out of the bath, rivulets of water racing down his tone thighs and sculpted shoulders, flickered from the trigger.

The stars and the moon seemed to exist right over the atrium and washed the white stone in delicate shades of silver. Vibrant plants sat in every corner and the green flashed out to him, tiny images of equally green eyes watching over him as he trained on the sand. Too much time passed since their last meeting and Levi was feeling the affect keenly whenever Eren withdrew to the villa from his perch and left an ache of longing.

Thick gold curtains framed the entrance of the room, it narrowed the on goings to anyone passing at a rapid pace but to Levi it granted the view of a warm bed draped in magnificent tapestries, down pillows embellished with varying patterns and designs. Tall iron candle holders basked the space in an enticing glow. A table held a flagon, cups and fresh fruit.

Sasha pushed aside the drape and motioned inside but as the raven walked through, she clutched his bicep.

 “Dominus is very important to me,” she whispered, she searched the room for Eren before fixing what she might’ve thought was a menacing expression on Levi.

The sincerity in her words bothered him. It told of a bond, a fierce need to protect Eren, a strong relationship where she felt the right to rise to Eren’s defense and issue out threats to anyone who wander too close.

 “I won’t hurt him,” Levi assured; he realized how true it was. The notion never crossed his mind once the minute Sasha brought him to the villa.

She searched for Eren again. The dominus wandered into the room with his back to them as he unfurled and read over a piece of parchment, oblivious to their quite conversation.

Levi stared at the brown ringlets curling at Eren’s nape, still slightly dark from the recent bath. “You have my word, Sasha,” he said softly so to not alert Eren.

She dropped her hand to her side, resigned. “Thank you.”

Once Levi stepped through fully, the curtain drew shut tightly so that none could pry on them.

“Dominus,” Levi said to announce his presence.

The Roman looked up from his reading, “Please help yourself, I’m almost done.”

Levi helped himself to the food.

“Bad news?” he suggested, popping a ripe grape into his mouth. Flavor burst on his tongue, he snatched some more.

Their diets were restricted to common food like _panis plebeius_ , _posca_ , beans and pea; sweets and meats were a rarity; something exclusive to the higher class.

“Bookkeeping, which I should assume is never good news. But you’re not here to talk about the economic state of the ludus.”

“Why am I here?”

The parchment was tuck away for a later time. “Don’t be coy. I made my advances and intentions very blunt.”

 “So you want to fuck me? Bend me over your bed and ram your cock in me, is that it?”

But astonishment hitched his brows high into the drying curls. A healthy laugh bubbled out. “I must say I’ve heard whores with cleaner tongues than you.”

“I’m not your whore,” Levi countered darkly and he wondered if he misjudged Eren.

“No.  But you are mine. Your life is mine to do as I wish. I could very well take you with no consideration to your well-being.”

What was threat if spoken by any other person came off as confidence with Eren. In terms of power, Levi had all the physical. He was the most skilled man in the villa plus Eren’s injury hindered his movements so while he could prove a decent fighter for a man limited by his body, he would lose. But Eren had the blood of a Roman, a house name, countless guards, money— all things Levi was severely lacking.

So the casual way he tossed it was partly enraging. How easy it was for Eren. He could do as he wished while most didn’t have that luxury.

 But mostly it was arousing because Eren’s power was absolute.

It made Levi livid with himself and his body. “If you think it’ll be that easy then try, dominus.”

Eren was beautiful and he thought about that night in the baths on several nights but that didn’t make it an easy thing to admit.

The boyish smile rattled something small and fragile in Levi’s heart. “I said I ‘could’ not that I would. I don’t take unwilling lovers. The choice is ultimately yours.”

 Levi didn’t understand a Roman put him here, a Roman purchased him like a cow, now a Roman was giving him a choice.

“You’ll let me walk if I refuse with no punishment?” He tested, ambling to the partition as if he planned to leave like that.

 Shit, if it was that easy to refuse Eren he’d never be here in the first place.

Levi waited for the sign of disapproval or the issuing of guards to barge through and pin Levi down. But Eren shrugged lazily and poured a cup, savoring the flavor. Fingers gripped it in a languid clasp. “None.” He gestured to the exit.  “You could leave now and I’ll never approach upon you like this.”

“Then what?”

“I suppose I would find another man to keep me company,” he said.

Oh, the fucking thought of another with Eren like _this—_ there should be no forgiveness.

“I should correct you that if you say yes that it will be me who is fucked. You can bend me over, take me against the wall, put me on my knees. Whichever, I want to be penetrated by you.”

Levi haled sharply and he rushed forward into Eren’s space, the thought too desirable to resist. His hand ached to take Eren exactly as he described.  “You want me to fuck you?”

Eren set his cup aside.

 “If we’re being honest, then I want more than your cock in me. Perhaps your tongue one day. I want you in my mouth. Yours on mine. You couldn’t imagine the things I want you to do to me, Levi.”

“I’m imaging now, dominus.”

“I hope the sight is pleasing to you.”

“It is.”

War battered fingers danced along the angle of Levi’s jaw, the short hair of his beard dragging deliciously on the Roman’s skin.

“Is this agreeable with you?”

“I haven’t left, dominus.”

“I don’t want to take anything you’re unwilling to give.” And it was life Eren had an understanding of Levi’s pride. He had the control but yet placed it on Levi.

Levi grabbed the hand cupping his face, flattened it, and guided down his abs to the cock thickening between his legs.

“Does this seem unwilling, dominus?”

Eren moaned softly, mouth parting. “Gods.”

Levi slotted their fingers, his closed over Eren’s, and used theirs hands to rub his cock.  He rolled his hips, gave Eren more of his cock to palm, and the hot breath hitting on his cheek stuttered and then Eren was splaying his hand wide to fondle.

Eren played with him, fingers tugging on the foreskin, getting him wet, making his cock leak, flushing his pearly skin pink; he did this _well_. Well enough that being inactive body had his nerves buzzing, his mouth shaping raw noises, and his hips fucking that hand; and fuck, he couldn’t stand to be the sole one in pleasure so the hand on Eren’s drew away, traveled up the Roman’s forearms as the muscle underneath flexed with each tug.

Levi unlatched the subligar and it slid down to his ankle to give Eren more freedom to work with.

He watched his wet cock fucked in and out of Eren’s brown hands, the skin pulled back then wrapped over the sensitive tip.

“Show me how you fuck, Levi. I want to see you use that cock.” The words were laced with fire and smoke, scorching all thoughts from Levi’s mind.

Levi gasped and drew Eren closer by his ass, doing just that, showing him how he liked to fuck. How he’d fuck Eren. Just how well he used his cock. “Dominus.”

“My name, Levi.  I would have you say my name. Let me hear you. Let the Gods know who is giving you this.”

Were they in any situation, Levi would consider the rule he was breaking by calling Eren so formally.

With his voice commanding him, Levi could only obey. “Eren,” he husked, voice a dirty little nasty sound.

Hastily, he drew his hand back and ran his tongue over it, then skimmed back down. Levi fucked forward when that wet hand closed on his shaft and Eren thrust a pink tongue into Levi’s mouth, savage and mindlessly, chasing the taste of his name.

 “Again,” fire trickled down his throat until Levi’s lungs were inflated and he couldn’t breathe. “Say it, again.”

“Eren,” he spat out because once Eren removed his tongue, and the air came in, that the mundane task of simply getting the breath in and out became far from his reach. And Levi pondered if Eren knew this— that he could destroy people like so— was he aware he kissed as if it was a fucking war.

He couldn’t stand for it to be the only one reduced and charred to nothing. The Roman would burn with him if he had any say.

“If you want my cock, _Eren_ , beg for it.” Levi shoved his hand off his cock, got his palms on the Roman’s pert ass and groped harshly, and sipped on the harsh moans as he maneuvered Eren’s backside to the nearest wall. They found the wall with a loud thud that nearly was drowned out by their animalistic breaths.

Eren scraped his nails over Levi’s shaven head, “Fuck me.”

“Beg.” Levi knocked Eren’s legs wide and wedged his thigh in the space, pleased when Eren responded by rolling into it, head thrashing side to side as he got off. “Use your pretty words, Eren.”

If Levi wasn’t so buzzed out on desire, he might have scoffed at himself; in no worlds was there a Roman he wanted to talk endlessly. Yet, here he was in this life and each word from Eren tasted like an elixir from the Gods.

The fucking irony.

“Gods, Levi,” he panted, working his hips to rut against Levi’s thick thigh, spine arched perfectly off the wall and clothes wrinkled by Levi’s rough handling.

He tasked one hand to binding Eren’s wrists over his head as he pinned Eren in place; Levi licked his lips in a manner one called savage and barbaric, and dropped one hand over the Roman, touching freely as he wished.

He fisted the wet curls and angled Eren’s head so his long nape was exposed. Levi lapped up wetly, dragging the tip of his tongue over every inch within reach, slick tracks of saliva glistened. Eren’s skin blazed like bitter ale, sweet on the intake then hot and bitter down.

“Give me your cock,” he begged.

The Thracian mouthed up his neck and murmured darkly in Eren’s ear. “Beg.”

Eren turned for Levi’s lips but Levi spaced them perfectly so that his mouth hovered a breath away. He pulled futilely against Levi’s strength and got no results.

His torso sagged back to the wall, a glare settling next to desire. “Don’t act as though the thought of being inside me doesn’t please you. That you aren’t wet and throbbing for my hole. ”

“It pleases me, dominus,” he said, releasing the handful of curls, and leaned forward to bait the Roman.

Shamelessly, Eren chased for his lips, pink and bitten, whining when Levi retreated the moment he made contact. “Are you certain? Maybe I should find another to sate me.”

He squeezed the skin until it flared white. “No.”

“So you want to keep me to yourself but deny me all pleasures. You’re very cruel”

“Pretty thing like you. I’m sure you’ve never been denied much in your life. What woman could resist you like this? What man.”

“Yet you are.” Then Eren showed how little anyone could resist him, body posed and hard under the expensive robes, he couldn’t spread as wide as he wanted not without tearing the fabric but Levi got it. An offering.

He learned the lay of Eren’s body with his eyes. Saw the sluttish pink dusted on his cheeks. The slippery tongue wetting his mouth. The bright emerald darkened to the color at the bottom of a shallow pond. The cuts and lines of rock hard muscles flexed tight where his arms were pinned high. How pretty his golden skin played with the soft shades of his cream tunic, the straps slipping off his shoulders and splaying more skin, like some virginal nymph that devoured men who wandered blindly through the woods.

Eren owned Levi. In the eyes of the Roman Empire, Eren could take him to the streets, naked, and cut his throat at the steps of Jupiter temple, painting the white steps in red, and the fellow high class Roman would applause as the lower class ducked in resignation, powerless.

But Eren showed him no cruelty. Respect. Wine. The pride of his name. Freedom to stand in his private chambers without a harmed guard who loathed the ground Levi stepped on. Concepts no one associated with the Romans.  All he’d done so far was proved how little of a Roman he was.

Romans conquered. Fucked the world and told it that it should show gratitude because the Romans didn’t lack. They excelled in war, politics, culture, sex.

This Roman gave.

Now, he was giving Levi his body to fuck.

_I want to fuck him_ , he thought feverishly and the night at the bath bubbled up in stunning vision. Gold skin, wet hair, cock hung, fire.   _I want to be inside him as he moans under me, taking me eagerly, swollen and red with my cock._

The planes of Eren’s clothes pulled taut between his legs, the bugle of arousal unmistakable.  “Only barely, dominus,” he breathed, his mouth involuntarily parted for a thick cock.

“Perhaps I was unclear. I want you to spread me open on your cock and fuck me as if this night is your last. Fill me until I can’t feel nothing else but the memory of you.”

Oh, the words were very pretty and he couldn’t indulge anymore with his cock aching and leaking against his belly. He dropped one hand and secured Eren’s wrist with the other but the Roman was nowhere near unwilling. If anything he loved being pinned like Levi’s little whore.

The way Eren’s thick cock filled his palm was absolutely lewd. The weight of the Roman sat hot and hard around his fingers. And the sounds leaving him were down right unforgivable. No living person should sound like _that_. None should be as handsome, as beautiful; as if tempting the gods to strike down a mortal beauty because clearly only the divine were permitted such a thing.

He whimpered, bucking into it, all sex and sin in the action. “How’s your resolve now?”

The lavender flowering up the walls of the villa now dissipated, subdued by their own scent of pre-cum, body sweat, and arousal. It flavored the tongue like wine and wafted up Levi’s nostrils like a thick smoke.

He didn’t want to talk right now, not when Eren had him twisted inside. Right now, he needed his cock bury deep in Eren’s ass.

Levi couldn’t wait anymore and Eren was all fire up and done teasing him.

He released Eren’s wrists and hiked up the end of his robe over his thighs. A tiny groan freed itself when he saw how heavy Eren’s cock hung. Then he remembered the red, violent scar running up his leg like a bolt from Jupiter.

“Your leg?”

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and considered, it took more time than Levi would’ve expected for the Roman to answer. “Here, fuck me against the wall. I’m already wet.”

“Fuck,” he cursed because that filth had impatience and hunger bringing a hand to his mouth, he spat in it because he didn’t have time for any oil, and brought to his  cock and pumped the shaft to wet it liberally.

Free to move, Eren kissed Levi hot and wet, flicking his tongue over Levi’s bottom lip and into his mouth like some kind of mutt. Instinct begged Levi to open him and ram his cock but he didn’t want to hurt Eren so he dipped his fingers to Eren’s hole and checked.

And _gods_ , he was loose and wet down there and he didn’t bother keeping silent when Levi fingered him real quick. Once he was in, there was no stopping— that was how good Eren had him. That was how base he was.

Eren mewled when two more fingers started sliding in with the first. The tendons in his inner thigh strained under the skin as he rode them greedily. “Y—your cock. Now. Levi.”

The clothes were nearly tore in his haste to get it out of the way, they bundled around Eren’s waist and exposed his lower body. Eren’s legs hugged Levi’s narrow hips the instant he lifted him by the back of his thighs, the Roman’s hand sliding up Levi’s neck to drag his fingernails over the short hairs. Fingers dug into the meat there and painted Levi’s impression. The wall bridged Eren between cold stone and the Levi’s torso.

They stopped breathing and stared at one another as the thick head of Levi’s cock popped through the ring. Then slid the rest slowly thickly, the cavity soft and wet and gripping, and Levi knew the day he met his end that he would remember Eren’s face above all others.

The thick filling broke the Roman. He shattered, gasping and whimpering as Levi’s cock slipped in thickly at a torturous pace. “ _Yesyesyes,_ ” he moaned upward.

A quiver traveled up his body. “So hot.”  He kissed under Eren’s jaw and applied suction. “So tight,” he groaned into the wet, reddening bruise.

“ _Thick_ ,” he mewled and Levi sucked another bruise on to the clavicle.

He bottomed out, pelvis flushed to Eren’s pert ass, and he to pause in order to breathe, climax hammered frantically in his balls.

Eren was so tight, so hot and wet for him. He’d prepared himself in the bath, so damn assured Levi would fuck him with no time for stretching him. The image of that didn’t help, he groaned, torn between envisioning the golden body submerged in water and a hand between his thighs, the ripples created by the thrust, and the body he was seated in fully, crippling him, unyielding. Both tempted Levi to the edge and he couldn’t have that, not until he had his fill.

His dominus seemed to have similar thoughts. A wet tongue dragged up to his ear and he whispered hotly, “Let all of Capua know whose cock I’m taking right now.”

The fucking Gods were going to hear them if Eren spoke anymore sin.

Then Levi moved, legs and ass contracted as he drew out. Eren’s hand roamed over his chest and spine and his hole clutched tight, refusing to let go.

He snapped back , chuckling dryly as Eren’s head tipped back. “More.”

Each drag out of Eren was wetter than the next. Hotter. Tighter. As if his dick might break off and he couldn’t still his hips.

He was fucking Eren and he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to either. He wanted to go in deeper, harder, faster until Eren’s body memorized the girth of his cock.

Sweat slicked his grip and he adjusted it, bounced Eren up a little and groped a cheek in each hand.  Eren encouraged the hold by placing one hand over Levi’s, he palmed tight so close to painful and Eren allowed it like he wanted the pain it gave and the mark it left long after Levi went. “How does it feel inside me, Levi? Is it good?”

Levi answered by thrusting forward, not brothering to pull out his cock completely, and the action arrested Eren’s breath.

Eren arched into him with a ragged moan, smoky and hot, the moss green of his eyes consumed whole by dark hunger. “You feel wonderful inside me,” he mumbled into the shell of his ear.

Levi rammed into him this time and he didn’t know how his legs were holding him upright anymore let alone sucking in the air in harsh breaths.

“So thick—hah, so hard. You’re filling me to the brim.”

“Eren.”

“I don’t know how I’ll survive without your cock in me.”

“Fuck.”

“You’re doing so well, Levi. You’re fucking me so well. So good. It feels so good.”

“Er—Eren. I can’t…”

“Inside me. Please, fill me.”

_Fuck_ , that did it, he strengthened his grip and locked his legs and fucking _slammed_ that ass on his cock. It should  probably hurt. Definitely would bruise but Eren was following, sped up as fast as he could in his position. Levi had him trapped and there wasn’t much leverage but he was creative and hungry and all the power came to real good use because now Eren got the right angle and bounced up and down.

Levi halted to a complete stop, cock pulsing and mouth opened on a primal moan because he stopped but Eren didn’t and the Roman rammed himself down repeatedly, taking advantage of Levi’s sudden paralysis.

“Yes, gods _yes_. Give it to me.”

 He hissed and tried to hindered Eren’s hips but he didn’t have any strength and Eren was persistent like he’d never get another cock to ride on. “Fuck, Eren—“

“Just a little longer. Let me use your cock a little longer.”

“You fucking—“ he gritted his teeth. “Fuck. Fuck.”

It was too much to stay inside any longer, every pulse around him killed in all the best and worse ways, and it left Levi shuddering and gasping like a virgin.

He took them to the bed, flowering with bright colors and it was something very like Eren to be bright with all colors, and pulled Eren off his cock and tossed him down. Eren’s legs fell open instinctively over the edge of the bed and Levi kneeled between them easily, already too weak to stand.

It was beautiful down there. The cream clothing was mussed and damped. The golden skin gleamed like real gold as it captured the fire. And that cock was at full mast, painfully red, and weeping pre-cum freely.

The sight of his come leaking out of the red rim invoked a base urge to mount Eren again.

“Have you bathed here?” The baritone voice fanned down the curve of his ass and the cheek shivered at the heat.

“Yes,” he said, utterly breathless, and a coarse texture seeped into his words enhanced by the rigorous sex. It was simply enthralling to listen to.

He was out of it at that moment to line the implication of Levi’s question, curls plastered to his forehead, and his body was shivering from the removal of heat. But then, “Oh, _please_. Levi,” and tucked his knees close and Levi’s heart thumped at scrumptious red abused ring, grasping emptily for a cock.

Suddenly, it was a feast; he dipped low and dragged his hands over the back of his thighs, cock valiantly twitching when Eren moaned at the touch. He was spread as wide as he could go but it was not enough.  He caressed the roundness of his ass, learning its pert shape, before smacking and parting it.

He mouthed around the hole, using tongue and teeth to nip and lick, the ring fluttered under the attention, threads of cum oozing out and cocking bobbing when Eren’s rocked back, on the point of delirium.

 He ran his tongue up his ass and straight into the quivering entrance. The taste of cum was slightly unpleasant but it got Eren splayed wide on the bed and gasping out crass sounds like a paid whore, so he ate and licked it his seed up until spit gleamed bright and all he tasted was Eren

 Eren watched, neck craned upright, a hand wrapped around each thigh to give Levi ample space, but he was barely keeping it together. Moans spilled out of his open mouth, soft and thoroughly base, and moved like he was made for taking it up the ass.

It was exhilarating to corrupt Eren like this. To fashioned such an elite man into a quivering wanton thing by his touch.

He got Eren wet and gave him a finger to rut on along with the tongue and Eren gasped louder and praised the stretch, hurrying the frenzy jerk of his hips, orgasm on the brink as it gathered air and the embers kindled into roaring flames.

Eren wouldn’t shut up but Levi was learning how much he liked it. To be told how good his cock was. How well he did it. How much Eren liked it. It was something about hearing it that made Levi hotter. He wanted to do good for Eren. Wanted it all to be so good for him.

He pressed closer, licking so deep that Eren’s entire body tensed up and arched high off the bed , the strength he had on his thighs weakening as he drowned in the pleasure.

“LeviLeviLevi. Hah. So good, so good. You’re giving it to me so good.”

He cradled the back of Levi’s head and scraped his nails until Levi groaned and fucked his tongue harder. His face was wet with saliva. Shaking legs draped Levi’s back and heels urged him closer as if there was any space, as if Levi couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and he followed the motion still because it wasn’t close enough.

 He had more to give.

 Eren had more to take.

“Please. Please. There—ha, _there_.”

 Levi licked _there._

Sucked _there_.

Rammed two fingers _there_.

 Deep, fast, hard, and wet.

The sound his fingers and tongue made going in and out of Eren roared in his ears, louder than Jupiter’s wrath.

And Eren was bucking off the sheets like an untamed stallion, shame discarded with the rest of him, cock jerking out strings of cum, voice high and wrecked like this was how he _needed_ to be fucked, like a whore. No some Roman warrior.

 He said Levi’s name and the man looked up, finally breathing, and each gulp of air seared his lung and cum bleed through the clothes where it splattered on his chest.

Levi very much ached to lick it all up. Wondered how Eren’s seed tasted. Then thought of Eren on his cock, mouth wide and choking to swallow Levi to the balls. And it progressed: cum on Eren’s face, in his mouth, on the floor and the Roman lapping it up like Levi’s little whore, tongue and mouth red.

“I hope you don’t think I am done with you,” he said, and Levi wanted to laugh because could barely lift his head and here he was telling Levi to fuck him all over.

 He fisted his slowly swelling cock to full hardness and crawled up the bed, slithered through the gap between Eren’s legs, his flaccid dick jerking when Levi’s brushed his near.  Stiff nipples poked through the Roman’s robes and Levi bit his lips and thumbed the sensitive points, curious if Eren would enjoy the treatment.

Oh, did he.

Eren pressed his chest in encouragement all cat like and sensual, and Levi could see pink, debauchery darkened his moans. “Levi.”

Levi worked the ache in his jaw, the taste of Eren lingering on his tongue. “I have yet to fuck your pretty mouth, dominus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a freeman is someone who voluntarily sells themselves into the gladiatorial games. some did this for the glory and fame others actually used the money they earn to help feed their family or pay off debts. so not every gladiator was necessarily a slave or a criminal. 
> 
> panis plebeius- common beard  
> posca- a common drink that mixed sour wine with vinegar and herbs. something that the roman army and the lower class drank on the regular
> 
> yes i actually researched the diets of ancient Romans. i know, how anal of me

**Author's Note:**

> this was mostly plot, sorry, but i couldn't write the smut without developing the story first. but look sexual tension will be resolved in the next chapter.
> 
> -Eren's middle and last name basically translate to The Sun and Hunter
> 
> oops, i derped and forgot these terms:
> 
> Ludus- house of gladiators  
> Villa- above the ludus, housing the owner  
> Lanista-owner of gladiators  
> Dominus- title of master  
> Doctore- gladiator trainer  
> Subligar- lioncloth  
> Gladius- sword  
> Rudis- wooden sword  
> Carpentum- carriage  
> Atrium- courtyard, center of the house  
> Primus Pilus- a senior officer ranking, basically translate to the first spear or first file


End file.
